Claire 101
by AtHeart150
Summary: Paris. What if Jamie and Claire can not get passed the tragedy of Wentworth and Black Jack...
1. Chapter 1

**Clair 101**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Outlander_ \- All Characters and rights belong to their respective creator Diana Gabaldon.

"Right this way, Madame Beauchamp," the barmaid said as she walked up the stairs. She stopped at the 2nd door on the left, opened it and I followed her into the room. The barmaid then stoked the fire, lit the candles on the table, curtsied and left, closing the door behind her with a solid click. I placed my bag and medicine box on the bed. I removed my cloak and set it beside the rest. I walked to the table with the bottle of whisky I had purchased downstairs, sank onto one of the stools, placed my head in my hands and burst into tears. I had left Jamie. I could not believe I had the strength to do it. I sobbed uncontrollably. Die, that's what I would do, just die of a broken heart, right now. Without him I could not breathe. My chest hurt just from the struggle of trying. God how I hate Paris.

I opened the bottle of whisky and took my first drink for I knew it would be a very long night. I laid my head so that my cheek was now resting on the table and I looked into the fire. My eyes were half blinded by tears. Of everything that had happened to me in the last year and a half, I had always been so sure of us, Jamie and I, almost from the start. I had been so confused and scared when Murtagh had shoved me into the cottage that first night. The men, with their lustful looks, and even though they spoke only in Gaelic, I knew their comments were rude simply by their inflections. I had an instant connection with Jamie. The moment I took his hand to set his shoulder there had been a tingle; small charge between us. Some sort of bond. When I looked into his eyes, his look mirrored back into mine, confirming what I suspected; he had felt the same connection. I immediately felt safe in his presence because of it, unlike any of the others I'd met since I had arrived. Somehow Jamie had let me know he would always look out for me, keep me safe from them with a single touch and a look. So, I was not afraid when Dougal placed me on the horse to ride with Jamie, only angry and confused at being there in the first place. I shuttered to remember how terrified I would have been had I been made to ride with any of the other men, including Murtagh, back then. When I told Jamie what I knew about Cocknammon Rock, he rode forward to inform Dougal. Dougal had turned to me with a look of such distrust and threat, demanding that I explain how I had come to know about a British ambush ahead. I had become immediately defensive and frightened all over again. Jamie had sensed it, even then so in tuned to my body he was, and instinctively pulled me closer into his plaid. He then adjusted it to protectively cover me more completely, an extremely reassuring gesture I might add, and he watched, carefully, as Dougal circled us while still glaring at me. I think if Dougal had tried to hurt me at that moment, Jamie would have come to my defense instantly, even as injured as he was. He had confirmed that impression with words when we reached Castle Leoch while I tended his wounds. He promised me protection so long as he was with me and to be careful when he was not. Jamie trusted me to protect him, as well I think; 'to heal all of his scratches.' He had also allowed me to see the scars on his back, confiding in me their true origin, because he had decided to trust me as well. And then there was that little "rise to the occasion" shall we say, when he sat me on his lap as I cried in his arms that first day at the castle. No question he cared for me from the start.

And now…now he would no longer protect us, the baby and me. Wentworth Prison. That horrible night with Randall, the God Damned Sick Pervert; that is where it all started. Jamie has never looked at or touched me the same since. Was it because Jamie had to promise to offer no resistance to Black Jack in order to save me; to honor his vow to protect me, even with his body? Did he blame me? We have not been truly intimate since Wentworth either. What all Randall did, Jamie never fully confided to me, only choosing to disclose selected moments. For a short while, when we first came to Paris, Jamie tried to come back to me. He would come to our bed and attempt to reach me, to reconnect. I could always see it in his eyes when Randall took over and he would pull away and leave me, first just physically and then over time mentally as well. I tried several allurements in an attempt to keep Randall from our bed; once, when I deforested my honeypot and then with my lovely Red Dress. While the waxing inspired some interest and exploration on Jamie's part, it was quickly ended by the return of a Black Jack memory. The red dress did, in fact, seem to peak Jamie's interest enough that while he did make several comments of displeasure concerning the parts of my anatomy on display, the dress did finally entice him to reward me with a gentle kiss and caress of my breast before we left for Versailles, a prelude to how the evening would progress I had thought. It all fizzled to nothing upon our return home from the evening's event however. The whore's dress, as my husband referred to it, had not aroused Jamie enough to make love to me. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still feel his thumb rubbing my nipple through the sheer dress fabric as he kissed me. The memory makes me moan softly and hardens my nipples. No more Jamie I sadly reminded myself. Tears rolls down my cheeks. Thank God for whisky and took another drink.

After a time Jamie just stopped trying. He quit coming to my bed. He had his things moved to another room. He started leaving early, before I rose and returning late, after I retired. Or sometimes, I thought, perhaps he did not come home at all. How could Jamie no longer want or need me? I needed my husband desperately. What had I done to drive him away? He obviously preferred that tramp Annalise De Marillac over me now. It was like Langohaire all over again. Jamie certainly had a type, and they usually tried to do me harm. Jamie had told me that he loved me, that he always would; that I belonged to him and no one else. 'Only you Claire,' he would tell me. 'I would rather die than be without you' he had sworn so often… Apparently death was not a permanent state of being, for Jamie at least, and of extremely short duration. Words, all of it just words, not his heart speaking to me after all. If and when I could ever stop crying long enough, I would kill him if ever I saw him again.

What was I going to do now? I had absolutely no plan. I had some money; Jamie gave me money periodically to purchase any herbs and any healer's supplies I might need or perhaps a piece of ribbon or a new hat. What little money I had would not last long. When I left, I took only the one small bag that contained my life's worth - an extra pair of leggings and another shift and, of course, my medicine box. I was wearing the only traveling dress I owned, the wool one I wore when I arrived in France, and my cape. No need for the beautiful dresses I had worn daily while I was in court as Lady Broch Tuarach. When I realized what I must do, I had gathered my things, quietly slipped down the back staircase, out the back staircase and into the darkness of Paris. I met no one inside the house. Once on the street I had walked steadily away into the shadows making my way to the edge of the city and found this inn for the night.

I needed to be up early. I needed to leave Paris. I was unsure how long my note to Jamie would lay undiscovered. I was quite sure Jamie would not be home tonight to find it; he had insisted on personally accompanying Annalise home after tonight's dinner, even after I had suggested that Murtagh could go instead. I was fairly sure Suzette would find it tomorrow morning, but it would be placed along with the rest of Jamie's mail for his return. And since lately I did not know when, or even if, he came home every night, there was no telling when it would be read. I had always assumed he was with Charles Stuart at Maison Elise beating off the prostitutes to protect his virtue and working toward our cause but maybe he had been with Annalise all along. God, was it she that left those bite marks I had found on his thighs? Had I been that stupid and naive? Tears welled up in my eyes and the next thing I knew I was crying again. I took a long drink. As the alcohol burned the back of my throat I thought I am going to need a bigger bottle and took another swallow.

Tonight was the straw that broke the camel's back as Uncle Lamb used to say. Tonight had been Jamie's staff dinner. Jamie had the warehouse supervisors over to Jared's for dinner periodically. A routine they had established when Jamie first took over the wine business in his cousin's absence. It was a way for Jamie to learn the running of the warehouse, know the men he worked with and keep on top of any issues. I, rather cook, always plan a nice meal for them. It consisted of Jamie, the shipping supervisor, John Elkins, the warehouse supervisor, Henri Frome and the ledgers supervisor, Pierre Chat. "No women," Jamie had always said which I translated to mean a men's night, so to speak. They would have drinks, sit, and eat a pleasant meal all the while discussing work related issues. "Verra dull Sassenach," he always said. It was certainly nothing for his pregnant wife to have to sit through. This night was to be no exception. However, tonight, yes, this very night, less than 4 hours ago, Jamie had come home with Annalise on his arm and told Magnus, the head of Jared's household, that she would be joining the party for dinner and to set a place for her directly beside him, on his left.

WHAT!? I had come into the parlor to greet him and to thank him for the 3 dozen beautiful white tulips which had been delivered to the house earlier this morning. The card that had accompanied them read **Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Randall Fraser**. No signature to identify the sender. The flowers themselves were beautiful. And while Jamie could certainly be romantic, he had never written me a poem, let alone given me flowers. Perhaps Jamie felt a little guilty? Had he send them to ask for my forgiveness? I knew how angry he was that I was helping out it L'Hospital and Mother Hildegard. He did not like that I was not just sitting around waiting for my man to home. I know he was also concerned for the welfare of the baby. I had promised him I would be careful and only work on cases that would not harm our child. I needed to feel useful, to be doing something meaningful, not just attending social teas. In retaliation, he had been ignoring me for several weeks now. I knew, however, the flowers must be from him; he was the only one who knew of my marriage to Frank Randall. Everyone else knew me as the Widow Beauchamp, as that was the name I used when I first arrived until Jamie and I had married. Beauchamp is my maiden name and only Jamie knew that as well. Not even Murtagh.

Damn Annalise. Damn her. Damn her and her lighter than air, small bird like body that Jamie could just tuck into his shirt and carry. Well if Jamie was adding her to the dinner guest list, I had best plan to eat with them also. So when Magnus walked passed me, I stopped him and told him to set my usual place at the table as well. Jamie stopped his flirtations with Annalise (oh, remembered I was here did you?) and turned to me with a raised eyebrow and said, "No, no Claire, you must not tire yourself and the bairn with our verra dull talk of work. You should take your meal in your room and rest." It was the first time since he had returned home tonight that he had even acknowledged I was in the room let alone alive.

This was not the first time, in recent weeks, that Jamie had surprised me by coming home accompanied by the very beautiful, extremely conniving Annalise. One evening I returned from working at L'Hopital des Anges to find only Jamie and Annalise, with their heads together in a "tete-a- tete". When I entered the room they broke apart, backing away from each other, like two caught lovers. Jamie had the decency to turn pink around the ears and then walked to me and placed a kiss on my forehead. The other time I was home yet Jamie had not sought me out when he arrived to tell me of his day, to rub my feet or talk to the baby. I came upon them once again in the parlor. Jamie had his back to the door as I entered however Annalise saw me and deliberately stepped forward toward Jamie and gently rested her lighter than air hand (big fat paw in my humble opinion) on his arm, looking directly at me while she did it. As to Jamie, well, my husband did not remove said fat paw from his arm nor did he back away from her. Rather he placed his own large, strong, beautifully constructed hand on top of hers. I had not expected that; I am quite sure steam blew out of my ears at the sight. I reacted just exactly how Annalise had wanted me to do, I'm sure, for she smiled at me.

And now? Now, she was to eat with the men while I was to be banished to my bed chamber. Even Mr. Frome, a wise man, married many years, seemed confused by this. He looked from Jamie to me and back to Jamie. I, in response, confirmed to Magnus that I would be having my meal at the table with the rest of the party. I straightened my back, held my chin high, and looked straight at Jamie, daring him to tell me he would not have me there. I also told Mangus to set a place for Murtagh on Jamie's right (on the right, Ian, Jenny's husband, used to always say, to protect Jamie's weak side). Jamie, a brilliant chess player, would totally understand the move. I subtly nodded my head to Jamie in challenge. Jamie raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Jamie, for some reason, did not want me at the table and he was not pleased that I was not playing the obedient wife. Clearly he had forgotten who he had married. If he thought I'd take another woman sitting at my dining table, without my presence, he had a lesson in 'Claire 101' coming to him; I was certainly up for the teaching. Draw that line My Wee Scottish Warrior. I gently folded hands on my pregnant belly as an added rub.

"Dinner is served" announced Mangus and we all entered the dining room. Jamie, the men from the warehouse, Murtagh and Annalise were all down at one end of the table. I seated myself in my usual spot at the other end of the long dining table directly facing Jamie. I had the white tulips on display in an attractive vase placed on the sideboard for all to see. You could not miss them, when you entered the room.

"What beautiful flowers Madame". "Wherever did you find them?" Misseur Frome inquired.

"Why Misseur Frome, how kind of you to notice," I replied. "I quite agree; they are lovely. They were delivered this morning with nothing but a card addressed to me. I was quite sure, up until this very minute, that my LOVING husband had sent them to me."

Mr. Frome then turned to Jamie and said "Misseur Fraser, the white tulips are a beautiful gift to your lovely wife. May I ask where you found them? They are very rare and extremely difficult to locate a shop that stocks them. The flower of forgiveness, are they not? They must have cost you a pretty franc, eh? You found 3 dozen and sent them to your charming wife; she must forgive you any transgression, mais oui?"

At that, Jamie stopped mid whisper to Annalise, turned to face Misseur Frome and said "excuse me"?

Misseur Frome repeated his comment. Jamie then looked at the tulips and then me, raising an eyebrow. "What? Those flowers were delivered here addressed to you, Claire? Today? And you have no idea who sent them to you?" Did I note a slight change in the tone of his voice? Was there a hint of jealousy perhaps or was it only me hoping that he still cared enough to be jealous? Mentally I asked myself if Jamie had not then who could have possibly sent them to me addressed as they had been?

I turned my head and looked at the flowers and then back to Jamie replying "I had thought them from you until you brought home your surprise gift of Annalise." I smiled lovingly at him and coquettishly batted my eyes at him. "The card states only my name, my full name, and does not tell me who I have to thank for them." I hoped, beyond hope, that Jamie would understand what I was subtly trying to tell him….someone besides us knew I had been married to Frank, well maybe not Frank, rather someone with the last name Randall. Someone else knew of my first marriage and wanted me to know they knew. Who? I had a guess; but that guess made no sense. It simply could not be. That person was dead. Burned at the stake as a witch. I had never told Gillis but somehow Gillis seem to know things about me without my telling her. Had she in fact know and in turn share my secret with someone else and now that person was here in Paris? Who indeed?

As I, in my slightly inebriated state, recalled the evening, this unknown person that sent me flowers started to scare me. I no longer had Jamie to hold or protect me. I was Lady Broch Tuarach no more and that meant even Murtagh would no longer guard me when Jamie was not around. And there was the baby to protect as well. A waterfall of tears started up again. I automatically put my hand out. Jamie always carried a handkerchief and would place it in my hand whenever I needed one. No handkerchief was given. Jamie was not here. I would be responsible for my own handkerchiefs from now on. I sobbed. Loudly, gasping for breath as well. I reached into my bodice and found no handkerchief there either. I took off my bodice kerchief and use it. There, you see Claire; you can do this I told myself. You are a modern, independent, self-sufficient woman. You don't need a man; you can wear your own trousers, or should I say breeks? I took a drink from the whisky bottle then started to cry yet again.

Alright Beauchamp, old girl, pull yourself together. Sitting here crying is not going to help. I looked at the bottle of whisky. I took another long drink and belched. Not very lady like, I chastised myself. It was going to be the first of what I predicted would be many long tearful nights. I needed to think. I needed to formulate a plan. I needed to get out of Paris. I wondered if perhaps Master Raymond might be able to help me. Maybe I should go to him first thing tomorrow. Jamie would eventually go to L'Hospital and Mother Hildegard if he ever bothered to notice I was gone or even start to look for me. Oh God, would he even care enough to look for me and the baby? My heart shuttered at the thought of never seeing Jamie again. A huge sob escaped me and tears started to roll down my cheeks all over again.

Stop it right now. Stop it this instant. Jamie does not want you anymore I reminded myself. The dinner made that perfectly clear. When dinner was over, I had walked up to Annalise, thanked her for coming, informed her that our carriage was downstairs ready to take her home and that Murtagh would be accompanying her, to see her safely home. Jamie, **my** **husband** , had stepped right up and put a stop that plan. "No" he had firmly stated while looking directly at me. "I will escort Annalise home. I will see to her safety." That's when I knew I had lost. The smug look on that bitch's face as **my** Jamie helped her on with one of **my** cape's, as she did not have one of her own with her. Game, Set and Match to Annalise; she had proven to be the stronger chess player, but then she had **my** Jamie helping her. I had clearly been out maneuvered. That is why I left. That is why I am here, in this inn, in this room, trying to stop crying long enough to devise a plan to get the hell out of Paris and go who the hell knows where.

This made me mad enough to get up and walk to the bed. I undid my bodice and removed it so I could loosen the laces of my corset. I need to be able to breathe unrestricted. I could not help but see my naked 4th finger on my right hand; the place where my key to Lallybroch had been for almost 2 years now. The very one Jamie pledged his love and devotion to me with, is no longer a part of me. My finger is bare. It feels empty. It feels wrong. Just like my insides. More tears. I had placed it in the note I left for Jamie, giving his key back to him. He would understand that I am letting him go. I cannot heal him from the tragedies of Wentworth, rather I am a daily reminder of it. I cannot undo the damage Black Jack Randall has inflicted on him; all done to him in his effort to protect me. I am his healer no longer. God knows I have tried to help him; he will not let me in. I love him too much to see him suffer anymore; pain that I am responsible for. He cannot look at me. He does not touch me. His struggles, to try and overcome this, are too much for me watch anymore.

And now Annalise is back in his life. He laughs with her. He talks to her. He has brought her to the house with increasing frequency and she stands brazenly within easy reach of him, whispering to him. She places her hand lightly on his arm when they speak and bats her eyes, giggles and looks up at him through her lashes. She hangs on his every word. Jamie responds by smiling at her. Not just those big, full, see all my beautiful teeth ones that he gave freely to all who know him. I mean those small, personal grins where only the corner of his mouth turns up. He used to only make them for me, now he shares them only with her. I cannot remember the last time I made him smile. As angry and hurt as I am, I need my heart's blood to be happy again. I owe him that. He gave his body to Black Jack in trade for my life. I am now, with a heavy heart, giving him happiness in trade for my own. It seems only fair. I need to step away. My body shakes from the sobs. I take another drink of whisky and then I slam my forehead into the table. Maybe I could knock Jamie from my head. Time to make plans for our future, the baby's and mine, a life without Jamie.

A noise. A very loud noise. I jerked my head up off the table. The movement gave the room a soft spin to it; like a merry-go-round just starting up. I rubbed my forehead. Ouch. I found the whisky and took another drink. Things don't look so bad with a stomach full of liquor.


	2. Chapter 2

Someone knocked at the door. That's what I had heard, what woke me up. Who the hell is at my door? I try to remember if I ordered something to eat from the inn's kitchen when I arrived; nope, not that I can recall. I only purchased the room and the whisky when I checked in. "Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin," I said to the door and took another drink. Today is first day of the rest of our lives, I tell the baby, as I rub my belly. This time when this somebody knocks on the door, I, not thinking, because I have decided it hurt too much to do so, I walk to the door to answer it, saying out loud as I walked, "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow the door down…" I come to an abrupt stop when Jamie's voice thundered "Claire? Is that you? Open this door! Now! Please Claire." The "please" was definitely an afterthought. He did not sound too angry but he was definitely not happy to be on the other side of the door. I could hear it in his beautiful, deep, baritone voice. I stupidly placed my hands on the door in a gentle caress and my eyes soften as I gazed at the wood, knowing Jamie is just on the other side…so close. I love it when he says my name, how he rolled the "r"…sigh. I place my cheek against the door, close my eye and whisper "say my name again Jamie, please."

"Claire, open this door! I ken yoo ken who this is!" Jamie shouted and his fist met the door with a solid thump.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ", I say loudly enough that Jamie most definitely heard me on the other side. That scared the shit out of me. He can be so loud sometimes. What time was it? How long had I been asleep? I turn and had to lean back against the door because the movement makes me dizzy. I look to the window. It is still dark outside. My gaze then drops to the table. The candles still have wick left to them. I had left the house under the cover of night and it was still night… How did he know I was gone already? Had he come to my bed last night, finally after all these months, to make up for everything? To ask for forgiveness? Even if he had found my note with my ring, he could not have found me this quickly. How did he find me so quickly? I started to panic. I needed to hide, and fast.

I slowly turned and backed away from the door until I bumped into the bed. Still watching the door, I felt my way along the edge until I got to the end. I rounded the corner, still watching the door and continued backing up until I hit the wall. I had gone as far as I could go; putting as much distance between me and the door as I physically could. I knew that door did not stand a chance against Jamie. Had I even locked it? Too late now. I ducked and pulled the curtain that hung from the bed canopy around me just as the door swung open.

Jamie opened the door and entered the room. What was Claire thinking, she had na even locked the door. Murtagh and Fergus were right behind him. He had heard her voice on the other side of the door only seconds ago. Talking daft again to herself. She was his wee loon. That made him smile. Where was she? Claire was in here, somewhere, even if she wasna open'n the door for him when he had been polite enough to knocked. If she was na go'na to invite him in, as her husband, it was his right to just enter. He wanted to catch her with whatever wee lover she had stashed in the room with her. Let her watch while he killed him; the wee idiot that sent his White Lady 'Beautiful, Rare White Tulips,' he sneered under his breath. If anyone was going to give her flowers, it would be him. She sho'na be accepting flowers from other men, but then she sho'na have a lover either. And sneaking 'oot the house so late to meet him. What was she about? After killing her lover, he would drag his wife home, stomp all over those flowers, and then bed her until she loved only him again. Even if he had to throw her over his shoulder to get her there. She was'na that heavy even with the bairn.

Why had she done that, taken a lover? He was her husband. She belonged to him; only him. He had always seen to her satisfaction, in the bedding, hadn't he? She was clearly satisfied when they were done. She was so soft and sweet with him after. Always falling right to sleep in his arms, he'd worn her 'oot. He always saw to it that she released, every time, sometimes more than once. He smiled at that. Only good lovers could do that she had told him on their wedding night and he had her release 2 out of the 3 times he bedded of her on their wedding night. Not bad he thought proudly to himself; him a virgin too. He had paid attention like she said. Claire never did have to show him what she liked; he just listened to her wee noises, they were his guide to her happiness. Rupert had commented 'that she looked well ridden' the morning after when they came down to breakfast. That made him smile and Claire blush. It did not take him long to ready whenever she was near. All it took was to see her and her beautiful round ass or her hair, that lovely brown nest of curls. She never wore a cap like Mistress Fitz or the other women. Claire's hair was always wild about her face; he loved to tuck stray curls behind her ear just so he could be near and touch her. Just the smell of her could give him a cockstand. He had gotten her with child had he not? More than Frank had ever done. He said a couple of really bad words in Gaelic, as he always did when he thought of Frank and Claire together in bed. Claire was his wife. His. She had chosen him, not Frank. And he would keep her. She and the bairn were not leaving him. Ever.

But, he reminded himself, that maybe all that wasna so true after Wentworth and Randall. On the ship, he was too seasick to bed her even if he had wanted to. Claire seemed to understand. When they first arrived in France, it was she who had been so sick in the mornings, pregnant with the bairn, that they had not mmmmrghhh. She was sick for weeks, especially around food. Claire had assured him that was normal for some pregnant women. He was also so afraid he might hurt her or the bairn if he took her. When they moved into Jared's house, she had come to him in those thin shifts, where he could see her breast with those beautiful ripe cherries and her lovely brown forest, and he would be more than ready to take her but then Randall would come and he was not able to love her. He would pull away and she would just hold him. Sometimes he could not even stand being near her and have to leave the room making excuses about checking the day's receipts. With Jared's introduction to Prince Charles, he started staying out late and then later, which was good because Claire would be usually be asleep when he returned. Finally he moved into another room, away from her. He told her she and the bairn needed their sleep but the truth was he found he could not sleep when near her anymore; her smell made him want her, and when he took her it made him think of Wentworth, of Randall. When was the last time he held her in his arms? When was the last time he even shared her bed? He could not even remember. He kicked the door he was holding open.

"E'ye," and as Claire would ask, "A lightbulb go off?" though he was not even sure what a "litbull" was let alone if one 'ad "got off." Claire was special. His Sassenach liked the bedding. She was a physical creature. Not all women were. He knew that from talking to Murtagh, Rupert and Ned Gowan when they gave him advice before his wedding night with Claire. He was a very fortunate man indeed. Had he unknowingly pushed her away by not loving her enough? Had he lost her when he left her bed? He was such a fool.

He shook his head to clear the thought. Where was she? Not a lot of light but enough to see in the room. He slammed the door closed behind him; not too hard but enough to make sure Claire knew he was none pleased to be here and not to give him a hard time now that he had found her. Maybe shake the lover a little too, ey? Not a large room. He made it to the table in two easy steps. Only one bottle of, he put his nose to the top of it, smelled and wrinkled his nose. A poor excuse for whisky and set it back on the table. No glasses. Not a whole lot left in the bottle. Claire had been a busy lass, that was plain. He made a mental note to come back around and see about making a deal with the proprietor about raising the quality of their wares. Claire'd be drunk by now. Good, he liked to bed her when she was with drink. She could be a vixen when she was so; she would hold nothing back from him when he took her. He would have wounds in the morning he ken for sure. Now where was the wee hen? For hiding she clearly was. And just where was the whelp he was going to kill for being here with her? "Tsst," Jamie hissed through his teeth, and Claire carrying his bairn.

Claire heard the 'Tsst' Jamie uttered and shrank further under the curtain. That was never a good noise for Jamie to make. He was most definitely irritated with her. Although, irritated was several steps above hate; it meant his feelings for her weren't all negative. She could work with that.

"Claire, I ken you are here. You might as well show yourself. It will only be harder on you if I have to find you," he spoke as calm a tone as possible. He did not want to scare her any more that he already had.

Nothing. Not a sound. Not a movement. Where was she? There were not many places she could be. Jamie motioned to Murtagh to look behind the chair in the corner. He bent to check under the table. No Claire hiding there.

"Claire! Come 'oot right now, I tell you. Come, show yourself and things will be easier on you. You will be punished but I will be lient if you show yourself. If I must root you out, it will go much harder for you." No Claire immerged. Now he was getting more than a little annoyed; his palm was starting to itch in anticipation of what was to come. He saw the privy screen. Of course, that's where she's hiding. He crossed over and pulled the screen out of the way…. Empty. No Claire. No lover. Now where could she be? He looked at Murtagh and his godfather just shrugged his shoulders.

Then he heard it. The tiniest of noises. "psst" and he and Murtagh looked in the direction of the bed which was shoved into the far corner of the room. Fergus, who had been standing next to the bed, jerked his head to look at the corner of the bed against the wall. The bed had four posts with heavy velvet curtains gathered at each post. The curtain in the corner against the wall seemed to move slightly. Another "psst" and Fergus walked a step or two toward the moving curtain and bent forward.

"Milady" he said quite excitedly, "Milord is here looking for you". He turned to Jamie with a large smile on his face and pointed to the post. "I have found her for you, Milord" he said.

Jamie eyes focused on the gently moving curtain. Good. Got her. Now, where was the lover hiding?

Claire must have said something else for Fergus walked another step forward, placed his hand on the bed post and knelt down. "Oui Milady, Milord is right here. Shall I get him for you" he inquired? Whatever she said in reply made Fergus look back at me, confused. What was Claire saying to the lad? Fergus stood up, looked at me, shrugging his shoulders. He walked over and said "Milady says she would like for me to distract you while she finds a new place to hide. Oh, she also says she does not want to talk to you."

Now what was she up to? I watched as Claire, on her hands and knees, crawled on the floor toward the corner of the bed closest to where Fergus was standing. What, did she think, that I coo 'na see her? I coo 'na help but smile. Claire could always make me laugh. God, I love her. I crossed to the table, to the side closest to the bed, behind Fergus and leaned against the table's edge. I folded my arms across my chest and just waited, watching to see what my wee dove would do next. It took her a minute or two because she kept kneeling on her skirts as she tried to crawl and then found, much to her surprise, that she could not move. She'd look confused for a moment while she worked out the problem, rearrange her skirts and tried again. The look on her face when it happened a second time almost made me laugh out loud. Murtagh was behind me now, on the other side of the table, arms folded across his chest as well, with a smile on his face shaking his head at her. "She's drunk," he noted. When Claire finally made to the corner of the bed, she "psst" again and waggled her finger at Fergus who was standing in front of me. She needed him. Murtagh was right no question about it, my Claire was drunk forbye. She was attempting to still whisper but both Murtagh and I could clearly hear her now. "Fergus, I need to get to the table," she said to him. "Rather, I need to get under the table. Jamie, I mean Milord must not find me Fergus. You must help me to stay hidden. Can you do that? Can you help me? Please distract Milord now," she pleaded and leaned back against the end of the bed. I could just see the top of her head. Fergus nodded his head, then stood up, turned around and, again, walked over to me. When he reached me he shrugged his shoulders. "What am I to do, Milord?" he asked.

Her voice sounded so frighten. Of what? Was she scared to talk to me? One of her beautiful pale hands reached up to the top of the bed. The hand patted the top of the bed until it found her cape. Then slowly she pulled the cape off the bed and over the side. What was she doing? Why did she need her cape? That was when I noticed her bodice was lying on the bed on top of a travel bag, next to her medicine box. Why did she not have her bodice on? I quickly scanned the area. No, no skirts, no stays on the bed or the floor…she was not naked at least. He had gotten here in time. He must find the letch of a man. He would teach him to meet his wife in strange inns. It was that red dress at Versailles. He knew he should not have allowed her to wear it. It attracted all kinds of attention. Men were flocking around her like bees to a sweet flower. And Claire was totally oblivious to just how beautiful she was in that dress. He had spent most of that night protecting what was his. Quietly growling at any man that came near her. Worked too except for that one idiot. Jamie had allowed Annalise to drag away from his wife's side for 10 minutes to meet The King and Claire did exactly what he told her not to do, she had gone into one of those alcoves. To rest her feet she had told him later…HA! He had taken care of that scoundrel…almost drowned him in one of Louis fountains.

I started to crawl to the table. I had put my cape back on, with the hood up, so that Jamie would not be able to see me. I kept my head down, in an effort to take advantage of the 'if I don't see you, you cannot possibly see me law' of direct vision, and crawled as quickly as I could. I ended up flat on the floor; I had forgotten to hike up my skirts yet again. Would I never learn? I made an attempt to crawl faster. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I reached the table safely and scooted underneath. I scampered to the far side and sat up watching. I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning.

Jamie had determined that Claire was clearly alone in this room. No one else was here. Good, he nodded to himself. Surely his Claire would never do that to him, take a lover. She loved him. He was her heart's blood. He knew that. She did not have to say it, she showed him every day. She was carrying his seed in her. His bairn. Why then, why was she here? When I returned from Annalise's home, Murtagh came and told him that Fergus had seen Claire leave the house and followed her to an inn, this inn, in the middle of the night, I had laughed. I thought Murtagh was making a joke. I ken my own wife; she was asleep, safe in her own bed. To prove it had been someone else Fergus followed, I took Murtagh and we went straight to Claire's room only to discover she was, in fact, gone. My heart had stopped beating. There was a note on her pillow with her wedding ring inside it. That made no sense to me. She had taken her ring off, the one I had given to her on our wedding day, and given it back me. Why? I did not understand. "Letting you go," she said it the note. "Free to find someone else." What nonsense was that? She did not say she did not love me anymore. I would never let her go. She is my heart. I would search heaven and earth…not resting until I had her in my arms again.

At dinners ended, Claire had asked one of the servants to bring her 3 pieces of heavy paper and some string. She had taken the tulips and separated them into 3 sets of a dozen and wrapped them in the paper and tied them with string. When the men from the warehouse took their leave of her, she gave them each one of the bundles containing the flowers, telling them to give them to their wives as an expression of how much they loved and appreciated them. Why did I not see it then, how upset she was? Claire had wanted so much for those flowers to be from me and I had not given them to her. My response to her confusion and sadness had been to escort Annalise home instead of allowing Murtagh to do so. I could clearly picture Claire's face as I walked past her when we left, her glass face showing me how much pain she was in. My choices had clearly stated that I had chosen Annalise over Claire. And when we had arrived at her home, Annalise had misunderstood as well. She insisted that I come in for a drink and I, the idiot that I am, had gone in. Annalise made it perfectly clear she would not be disinclined if I had wanted more from her; she would take me as her lover. I had left immediately and come home to Claire. Claire had not only not waited up for me, she had left. She was gone.

Murtagh said she was very sad when I left in the carriage to take Annalise home. He said she had taken her leave of him right after we had left, muttered something to him about making sure the house was locked up since Milord would not be back tonight. She walked to her room with her head low. She had refused to allow Suzette to help her undress. Claire had told Suzette she wanted to be alone as she closed the door to her room. Suzette said she heard Milady crying as she walked away.

Murtagh said that Fergus heard Suzette say how said Milady was when they were all down in the kitchen and went to wait at the bottom of the stairs for Milord to come home, to let me know how very sad Milady was. Crying and all. "But you were gone an awfully long time," Fergus had told me. He had gotten sleepy, sat on the chair in the corner and fallen asleep. He did not know how long he had been asleep. He woke hearing the door to the courtyard open and a cloaked figure leave the house. He recognized the cloak as Milady's and so he followed her. He followed her all the way to the inn. He watched her enter this room and then sent a message back to me stating where he and Claire were.

What a fool I have been. Claire had never given up trying to reach me; she was my healer, my White Lady. She was sent to me. She has always been there for me, whenever I needed her. I simply could not get over Randall's touch on me. Randall had finally won, he had beaten me. Every time I touched Claire her face would dissolve into Randall's. I stayed out 'til all hours, sometimes not coming home until dawn. I had started sleeping in another room, away from Claire and the bairn, using her need for sleep as the excuse, when it was really me that had not wanted but needed to be away from her. To smell her, to lie next to her and not have her. It was tearing me apart. But I never told her that. The night I finally came home with the desire to bed her, she found bite marks on both my thighs. My efforts to explain them left me sleeping in another room again. My choices had made her leave.

So here I was at a strange inn in the middle of the night looking for my wife, to take her home if she would still have me. I knelt down, looked under the table and there she was. Her back was to me watching the legs at the other end. Murtagh's.

"Monne en donne" I whispered. She jumped and knocked her head on the underside of the table in her attempt to turn around. Her hand moved the hood from her face and those beautiful whisky colored eyes looked up into mine. "What are you doing, Claire? Come out from under this table, please. We need to talk". She was fine, looking into my eyes until I said "we need to talk". She could not move to the other end of the table fast enough, when I said that. She knocked into Murtagh's legs in an effort to get to the other end.

Murtagh bent down and looked under the table. "Claire" he said. "What's wrong lass?"

I grabbed at him and with tears in my eyes begged, "Please Murtagh protect me from Jamie. He wants to talk to me."

"Why lass"? Murtaugh asked giving Jamie a raised eyebrow over the table top.

"Because he wants to talk to me, Murtagh," I repeated. "I cannot let him do that." I replied with desperation in my voice.

Now Murtagh raised both eyebrows across the table at Jamie. "Claire, why can'na yoo na talk to your own husband, I might ask?" Murtagh inquired.

"He wants to tell me that he does not love me. He wants me and the baby to go away," I replied and start to cry in earnest again and laid my forehead on Murtagh knee. "He wants to tell me that he does not want me anymore. He loves Annalise. He has his little bird that he can keep safe inside his shirt. He does not want big fat me with my size 9 feet." I was sobbing and gasping for air at this point. Murtagh patted me lightly on the shoulder, muttering "there, there" to me. The man was truly terrible with women; no wonder he was single.

Jamie reached his hand out to me under the table from the far side. "Claire", he said. "Claire, come take my hand. Come to me. Let me hold you. Please, my heart."

I knocked my head on the underside of the table, turned to Jamie and said "That's the door Jamie, please answer it". Jamie mmmrrghed and gave me one of his special smiles where only one corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes were laughing at me.

"Now lass..." he started to say.

But then there was a KNOCK at the door. Murtagh stood up and turned toward the door. Jamie stood up as well. He looked back down at the table knowing Claire was under it and then back at the door again.

"How did she ken that?" Murtagh asked.

Another knock. A male whispering…"It's me, let me in. I am sorry I am so late my little turtle dove. Please let me in. I just received your note. I came as quickly as I could."


	3. Chapter 3

Jamie's fist came down on the table top, rattling me underneath it. I was not expecting anyone. Who the hell was that at my door at this hour? And who the bloody hell was turtle dove?

Jamie said something in Gaelic that I had never heard before and then a string of curse words I had. He crossed to the door in two strides and threw it open. It banged loudly into the wall. Saying absolutely nothing, he reached out and whoever it was on the other side was grabbed by the neck as Jamie dragged them inside. He had this poor soul up against the wall in one fluid motion. The poor man's feet were not even touching the floor and both his hands were grabbing at Jamie's one. His feet were kicking furiously. I had never seen this person before. Who was he? How did Jamie know him? Why was Jamie strangling him? Clearly Jamie was very upset with him, whoever he was. Then I caught the end of something about Jamie not allowing my lover to live to see the light of day; that I was **his** wife. The light bulb went off in my head. Jamie clearly thought I had taken a lover. This man? Here? In this cheap, dirty Inn? I was pregnant to boot. Really, Jamie, I have more class than that. But his anger meant he still loved me. He was willing to fight for me.

It then became very crowded in my little room. What I can only assume to be "my little turtle dove" entered and started beating on Jamie's back. Little was not the word I would have used but then, they say, love is blind. She was quite tall and I would bet she weighed nearly as much as Jamie. Murtagh was having trouble peeling her off Jamie's back. Then the barmaid entered and started pulling at the arm that held the hand that pinned the neck of the man that Jamie so obviously had an issue with. Enter three more men who successfully managed to pry the man loose from Jamie's grasp.

The man fell to the floor gasping for air. Turtle dove was immediately at his side cooing, kissing and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Jamie and Murtagh were busy explaining to the inn owner how the man came knocking at my door and how Jamie was only defending what was his. The grommel had been whispering sweet nothings to his wife through the door and he was teaching the man a lesson.

I took advantage of Jamie and Murtagh distraction and made a mad dash for the large chair in the corner of the room, leaving my cloak swirling on the floor in my wake. I peeked out from behind the chair to watch what was going on. I ducked back behind the chair smiling. Jamie was jealous. He did still care enough to get mad at the thought that I might have taken a lover and to fight for me. I would deal with the fact that he felt his very pregnant wife, would think of taking a lover, another day. Right now, this was cause for celebration. This was the first indication that Jamie still loved me. He cared enough to come to me in the dead of night (I still had not worked out how he found me or even knew I was gone) and take me home. Tears started to well up in my eyes. Ah, but what of the fair Annalise…. And I started to cry. Damn, the whisky was on the table too.

When the dust settled and everyone left the room, Jamie closed the door. My three men stood there trying to decide what to do next. Fergus reminded Jamie I was drunk, also very funny and therefore Milord could not be so very mad at me. Murtagh reminded Jamie that had he stayed home as I had suggested and let Murtagh accompany Annalise home, none of this would have happened. Jamie's fingers were tapping away against his thigh; he was clearly deep in thought. Tapping stopped. Discession reached. Course of action mapped out. He reached into his sporran and handed coins to Murtagh. He told them to go downstairs, get something to eat and drink and wait for us to come down. Before he shut the door, he said something else I did not quite catch.

My heart fluttered. 'Us,' he had said to them. He was not leaving here without me. I closed my eye, said a quick prayer of thank you and breathed a huge sigh of relief. We both wanted the same thing. I wanted my husband back in my bed and he wanted to be there. Oh happy days. Now we just needed to discuss the terms and conditions of my return and lay down some rules concerning Annalise. I waited to see what Jamie would do next.

Jamie walked back to the table, knelt down and looked under it to find her gone. Only her cape remained. He picked it up, walked over and placed it back on the bed next to her bag. He walked to the corner of the bed next to the wall where she had hidden before, pulled back the curtain and found she was not there either. Where had she scampered off to hide now? He knew he must go cany. Claire would bolt, and be gone, if given provocation. She had already been angry enough to pack her things and leave him. She was here at this inn, instead of home, was she not? It had only been a stroke of luck the Fergus had seen her and had the good sense to follow her. He made a mental note to talk to Fergus, to thank him. This was not the first time the lad had made decisions concerning his lady's safety and those decisions had protected both Claire and the bairn. Finding the boy had been a gift in more ways than one.

He found Claire. Behind the large covered chair in the corner near the fireplace. He could just see her eyes shining in the firelight. He felt his heart squeeze. God she was beautiful. Jamie sat on the floor, next to the chair Claire was hiding behind. When he did that she backed herself as far as she could against the wall and looked directly into his eyes. If he put out his hand he might be able to touch her shoe, but not wanting to spook her, he simply laid his hand, palm side up, on the floor about a foot from his thigh and started to gently move his fingers like they were in a burn, gently flowing in the water. He had caught a fish for their supper this way when they were first married. He ken she'd remember. He wanted her to ken that he meant to catch her. That he would be gentle and patient. Once caught, he ken he would never let her out of his sight again.

"The wanting you never stopped Claire," he whispered to her. "I can scarcely breathe for the wanting you now."

She blinked, acknowledging she hear him. No reply. Her quiet anger was the worst. Claire's no talking was a sign of just how angry she was with him, he ken, but she was listening and that was good. He could breathe a little.

Keeping his voice in the soft even tone he used when breaking horses as he started to speak. "I love you monne en donne. I have never stopped. You know that in your heart. I am sorry it took your leaving to remind me to show you. We need to touch, to feel each other to survive, to be one. I had forgotten just how long it has been, our touching. I am sorry my love. I will do better. I promise. For you and the bairn."

"When I was with Randall," Jamie continued, "after he removed you safely from the prison, even though I promised I would not resist, I did not promise to willingly participate either. He became verra angry with this error in our arrangement. He had wanted to break me like he broke the young man who hung himself; the one who's Bible I still carry in my sporran. He tried all manners of torture and threats to have his way. I still did not comply. At one point, when my pain was so great, I begged to die. You came to me. Your beautiful smiling face appeared in front of me. It became only you and I. No more RandalI. All my pain disappeared. I did not hurt any more. I remember reaching out to touch you and you disappeared and I called out your name. I cried out 'no more Claire' and started to cry for the missing of you. Knowing I'd never see you again. Randall found his weapon to break me. He used you to torture me. My pain returned and so much more.

"Claire. He is the devil himself. He took my love for you and turned into his torture of me. He would speak so softly, so lovingly, as you do. He let his hair fall in my face. He conjured you again. I thought it was your hands and your lips. He made me believe I was making love to you and when I was spent I realized it had been him the whole time. He and I both knew he had beaten me. I ken you would never take me to you bed again after you ken what I had done. I was no longer a man and could not be a husband to you again. I had lost you forever. I understood then why the boy had killed himself. I wanted to die. I asked Randall to kill me. Had I not been scheduled to hang in the morning, I would have killed myself. I could not live with what I had done to my memory of you, my memory of us. Randall had set his mind, all those years ago, for whatever reason, to break me. All those years, he could not. In a few minutes, using my love for you, he succeeded."

I took a breath. I looked up. There was Claire, my Claire with her hand almost touching mine. Tears were running down her face.

"Show me," she whispered.

I knew what she was asking, what she wanted, what she needed to see. I lifted my kilt so she could see just how much I wanted and needed her, my eyes never leaving her face. I waited to see what her glass face would tell me was in her heart.

"Put your hands flat on the floor by your side," she instructed. "No, leave your kilt where it is. Good. Now don't move."

She came to me then, her skirts lifted, placing one hand on the wall above my shoulder to steady herself. Kneeling she straddled my lap and with her other hand positioning me. Her face was so close to mine I could almost kiss her. I inhaled deeply. My favorite scent..Claire, with a hint of whisky. Her eyes closed as she slowly, oh so slowly, lowered herself and I slid inside her. I moaned. Oh God, she was wet. She wanted me. She needed me. She was letting me know that. She made no noise but a small sigh and her breathing changed. I wet my lips as I watched her raise herself up and then lower herself onto me again. This time I went deeper. It felt so good. I raised a hand to caress her face. Her eyes flew open and she started to leave me. I quickly placed my hand back on the floor. I let her see in my face that I understood and would not try to touch her again. She settled back into her work- my punishment. She would have me but I would not be allowed to touch her while she did. I would take whatever punishment she deemed I deserve. Take it and relish in the fact that she still cared enough to punishing me. And when she was done and had forgiven me, we would go home and I would service her until neither of us could walk.

There was a knock at the door. I knew it was the food I had asked Murtagh to send up. I knew she would be hungry. I had thought I could entice her out of hiding with food. Now that plan was a damn interruption. She stilled and looked at me.

"Food," I said. "I thought you might be hungry. It should be only Fergus. May I allow him in?"

Claire nodded.

"Come in," I said. Thank God Fergus had grown up in a brothel. One could only imagine the things the lad had seen. So he was not shocked to see me sitting on the floor with my wife on my lap with her corset unlaced and my hands flat on the floor. He did glance and us and then back to the bed but said nothing. He had a bowl, a spoon and some bread. Fergus walked over and handed me the bread which I set down in the space created between Claire and I. I then took the bowl and spoon from him.

"Thank you Fergus," I said. "Would you mind waiting downstairs with Murtagh while Milady eats? I don't think we will be too much longer. Please close the door behind you." Fergus left with just one last glance at us before he walked out the door gently shaking his head.

I could tell she smelled the stew. Her stomach growled; she was hungry. Good, I would get her to eat, once she had food, she would be calmer, more open to listening to me. I turned to her, lifted the bowl to take a spoonful and bring it to her lips.

She shook her head 'No' and he moved his hand away and he put the bowl down. She was not satisfied yet. He had not proven he was hers again. He knew had not explained Annalise yet. He had a ways to go before she would eat.

"Annalise means nothing to me Claire. There is only you. I used her. For the same reason I used Laoghaire. So that you would be jealous and want me. We were no longer one and I needed you back. It was because of my actions, I ken," I added quickly not wanting Claire to become angry. "I did not ken how to do that so I did what worked before. You were so very jealous of Laoghaire. First when I took the beating for her in the great hall and then when you found us kissing in the alcove. You said so yourself. So I tried it again with Annalise. When she told of how I had dueled another for her attentions, I could see the jealousy in your face. I tried again to make you as jealous as I am of every man that looks at you. I thought it would bring you back to me."

Claire looked at me, questioning, feeling the situation, then picked up the bowl and spoon and offered me a spoonful of the stew. I opened my mouth and allowed her to feed me some, then another spoonful and a third. I then gently took the bowl and spoon from her and she opened her mouth and allowed me to feed her a spoonful. And then another. She then took the bread that I had laid between us and broke off a piece and offered it to me. I opened my mouth and she gently placed it in, allowing her fingers to lightly brush my lips. She tore a second piece off. She looked directly into my eyes and she slowly ran her tongue over her lips. She then placed the piece of bread in her teeth, half exposed. Uneaten. She then moved her face closer to mine and as gently as a kiss she fed me the piece of bread from her own lips. My insides tightened. My breathing quickened. I made quick work of the bread and eager to see what she would do next. She had torn off another piece and was gently placing it to her lips. In anticipation, I licked my own. Claire smiled. Even her eyes were laughing as she pulled the piece of bread into her mouth and ate it herself. She tore off another and fed me again allowing her lips to then gently kissed me. I moaned, long and loudly. I could feel her smile on my lips. She started to rock again.

"Oh God Claire," I whispered when our lips finally parted to draw breath. "Please, let me touch you. I cannot do this and not touch you. I love you. I'm so verra sorry. Please Claire have mercy on me."

Claire slowed her pace, lifted her hands to her hair and removed the pins. Her bonnie brown curls, that she knew I loved, were free. She shook her head and her hair came completely loose. When had her hair gotten that long? She took my hand and placed it inside her loosened corset and under her shift and let go allowing me free range. Her breast felt so good in my hand. As I stroked it she began to pick up her pace again. I took the bread from between us. I slipped both hands inside and with my thumbs circled her nipples. She moaned, none too quietly either. I felt her contract around me. So tight. I had her. She was mine. She leaned back pushing her breasts up toward me and I eagerly suckled each in turn through her shift. I came hard and fast. I lifted my lips to hers and my sweet Claire released as well. We both shuttered and kissed and petted as our breathing became one. She rested her forehead against mine as I stroked her arms and she played with the stubble of my beard.

"How did you find me," she asked.

"Fergus and Murtagh guarded you," I replied, "while I got my heid oot my arse."

"It's always been just the two of us Claire. Neither of us is good without the other. I know that. You know that. Let's go home. You can tell me about these flowers on the way, e'ye?"


End file.
